


Do You Dare?

by winsister91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Booty Call, F/M, Smoking, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:25:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winsister91/pseuds/winsister91
Summary: Reader bumps into regular booty call Dean Winchester on a Werewolf hunt gone wrong. Something is different…and sinfully tempting.





	Do You Dare?

_Well, shit._  

You take tentative steps back from the Werewolf you just ended. Three more are slowly closing in on you, their fangs dripping with saliva and their eyes piercing through you. All evidence had pointed to this being a lone wolf, not a fucking  _pack_. You take deep breaths and swallow them, like trying to swallow your fear. This could be the end of the line, but you’ll be damned if you aren’t going down fighting. Silver blade in one hand and pistol in the other, you continue stepping, watching the three of them for any change in movement or stance. You know you only have one silver bullet left, better make it count. The bigger one of the three is most likely to cause you problems, and this standoff is getting tiresome.  
“C'mon then bitches!” you shout, rapidly aiming the pistol and shooting for the big guys head. He dodges the bullet by a fraction. 

 _Oh for fuck’s sake_.   
  
The three wolves roar monstrously, you turn and make a break for it, slamming through the door behind you into the corridor. They’ll easily outrun you, best be tactical. You pull off your jacket and throw it through an open door as you pass, they’ll follow your scent, this should distract one of them. You storm into a room, now throwing your backpack behind the rusted metal desk at one end and concealing yourself in a large rickety locker on the other. They’ll find you, but this could buy you an opportune moment. You can hear rapid feet and snarling. Peeping through the locker vent, you see a figure enter the room, it makes a beeline for the desk, the scent from your bag drawing it. A second one enters, coming straight for the locker. You hold your breath, gripping the blade tight and ready. It tears the door open and you swing, taking it’s head clean off. It’s foul blood spatters onto you, but you can’t help but smirk, relishing the kill. Shoving the headless corpse aside, you leap for the table with a second swing and swiftly end the dumbfounded creature still sniffing at your backpack. This one’s blood gets on your face and you grimace slightly as you wipe it away.

_Not bad old girl._

You turn on your heels, feeling slightly smug when a white-hot pain strikes across your chest. You’re hurled into the wall, head smacking into the hard concrete. You cry out, feeling the sticky warmth of your own blood seeping onto your clothes. The third huge wolf stands above you, blood dripping from the claws that struck you. It kicks your wound, winding you and you feel a crack in your ribs. You want to reach for your blade but you had dropped it when the creature struck, you can spot the hilt at the other side of the room. It hits you again, this time in the face and you’re knocked to the ground gasping for breath. You close your eyes and tense up, awaiting the killing blow.

 _Fuck…not now…_  
  
The sound of ripping flesh fills the room. A squelch of freshly released blood. Yet you feel nothing. A thud of something heavy dropping to the floor, then silence.  
  
“Saving your ass once again I see,” a deep voice cuts through the air.  
  
Still tensing, you open one eye. You jump and squeal as a dead Werewolf’s glazed over eyes meet you. Then you spot a pair of brown boots. Moving your glance up you see jeans, followed by a red shirt, a familiar cocky smirk and emerald green eyes.

“Well fuck me,” you grin, “Dean Winchester.”

He winks and pulls you to your feet, you wince as small sparks of pain attack you from your ribs.

“Bit off more than you can chew again?” He asks, supporting you as you both walk, “I’ve always said you had a death wish.”

“Three out of four ain’t bad,” you laugh, “If I do drop, so what? Just another dead hunter.”

He doesn’t answer and leads you out of the old office building you had tracked your supposed lone wolf too. Along the winding corridors, you see more bodies. Two, four, ten, fifteen.

“Were these all…?” you start asking.  
  
“Yep, one big ass pack you’d wandered in to,” he cuts in.  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” you both step over yet another body, “Did you…do all this?”

He shrugs but smiles at the same time.  
  
“ _Jesus_ Dean…”

“Brace yourself now,” Dean warns as you step outside, bringing a puzzled look on your face.  
“My car!!” you cry, seeing the destroyed hunk of metal. Doors ripped off, scratches all over it, interior torn to shreds, and two lifeless,  _headless,_ bodies on the ground next to it.

“That’s how I knew you were here,” Dean says with a slight chuckle, “I’d recognize that rusty old piece of crap anywhere. The wolves were going to town on it.”

“Hey,” you elbow him, causing no doubt more pain to yourself than him, “That piece of crap has stood by me for years…”

* * *

 

Dean takes you back to your motel room and sets to work patching you up. You watch him in curiosity, laughing at his lingering touches. You were used to it, you’d run into the Winchesters a number of times in the past, safe to say you and Dean had a somewhat… _arrangement_ , no strings attached. After you’d lost everything you loved, you seemed to have lost a lot of your morals too. Turning to hunting, drinking and smoking yourself to death. You wanted out of this god damn hell hole of a planet but you were having as much guilt-free pleasure as you could, and taking as many monsters out with you along the way. Dean’s comment about you having a death wish was truer than he probably thought. The problem was you’d been doing this gig for years and here you still were…somehow.

“That’s a load of bull crap you know,” Dean says out of nowhere, sitting back in his chair swigging out of a whiskey bottle as you pull a clean t-shirt on.

“Excuse me?” you say with a raised brow, you hadn’t said anything. You dig out a cigarette out of your bag and light it, the nicotine rushing to your head blissfully.

“This act of yours,” he narrows his eyes and elaborates, “The whole, ‘I’m just gonna kill, drink, and smoke til I die coz I don’t care’ routine.”

“But I  _don’t_ care” you scoff, taking a small puff and blowing the smoke at him.

“What, so you weren’t terrified in there? When that wolf was hovering over you about to gank you? You were completely happy with that?”

“…Shut up, Dean.”

You reach for the whiskey bottle, but Dean’s grasp on it is stronger than you thought.

“Hey,” you pull at the bottle again, “Sharing is caring Winchester.”

“You fight way too hard for someone who claims they welcome death,” he snorts, releasing the bottle to you.

“I don’t wanna be taken down by some bitch ass Werewolves okay? I fucked up,” you shrug, taking a swig of your own, “When it’s my turn there’ll be explosions and limbs flying everywhere and me going down in a blaze of bloody glory.”

“Quite an image,” he nods, “So glad I ran into you.”

Dean gets to his feet and heads over to you, grabbing your half-smoked cigarette and stomping it out on the floor. The evil smirk on his face sending tingles down your spine. He walks behind your chair, leaning down and breathing on your neck. You close your eyes, sighing deeply as the all too familiar 'Dean goose bumps’ form. You feel a small bite at your neck and you moan as something trembles within you pleasurably.

“Most girls ask for dinner and movie first,” you giggle biting your lip.

“Most girls would be running for the hills by now,” you hear him mumble as he steps back in front of you. You raise an eyebrow and open your eyes, and your heart stops. The green gems you would often get lost in were now jet black. You leap to your feet instantly, kicking your chair back and grabbing the knife you keep attached to your belt.

“Get out of him you fucking sick bastard,” you spit threateningly.

Dean laughs raising his hands up, eyes flicking back to normal.

“It’s all me sweetheart,” he smiles, but not the way you’re used to, “Go on, try exorcising me.”

Keeping your knife up defensively you step towards him. Holding it to his neck while pulling his shirt open a little to reveal a completely intact anti-possession tattoo.

“Fuck…” you mumble, looking at him in horror, “Does Sammy know?”

“He’s not too keen on the new me,” he continues smiling, “Don’t even think about telling him you’ve seen me.”

“What the hell happened?”

“That doesn’t matter. All I’m bothered about is…does Miss 'I don’t care’ dare to get dirty with a demon?”

You scowl, the hand holding your knife shaking. He’s a demon, but he saved your life. Why? Just to get you in bed? You try to ignore the sordid part of your brain that’s curious as to what it would be like.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” you ask shakily.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he grabs your hand firmly and moving it down to your side. His face is right up to yours, and you can see him give his tongue brush along his teeth, “You’re sure as hell not gonna kill  _me_ with that thing.”

Confused isn’t even the word. It’s Dean, but he’s a demon. Why are you turned on? It goes against every fiber of your being. The way he’s arrogantly sidling up to you and playing you.

_This is wrong on so many levels._

“But that’s why you like it,” he hisses, his lips toying with your neck again.

“A-are you in my head?” you stutter, unconsciously dropping your knife.

“Perks,” he whispers, moving to the other side of your neck. You clench your fists and grit your teeth, resisting the urge.

He stops to look at you, forcefully moving your head back to him when you try to look away.

“I’m still me,” he assures, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You don’t answer, so he lets you go. Grabbing his jacket and whiskey, he heads for the door.

“Wait,” the word just comes out of you. He stops, turning to look at you with partly narrowed eyes and a hungry smile.

Not another word is needed. In the blink of an eye, he has you and you melt into him. Despite the cocky exterior, Dean was usually quite tender, but this was different. He was rough and animalistic. His kisses forceful, biting your lip harshly and his tongue erratic. He grabs your ass hard and pushes you into the wall with no regard to your injuries. You gasp into his mouth, something inside you sparking and accepting this. The pain doesn’t bother you, it excites you and you respond just as roughly. You dig your nails into his hips through his shirt, grinding against his prominent erection. You pull your lips away to bite his neck and mark him. He grins darkly, pulling at the neck of your shirt and ripping it off, exposing yourself to him. Hoisting you up onto his hips, he carries you over to the bed and drops you onto it. Quickly bending down to suck on your hard nipples.

“S-shit,” you groan, writhing at the over-sensitivity. You grab tufts of his hair and pull, an uncharacteristic growl escaping you. He moves his mouth to your other breast, a hand grabbing the former. Your hips buck as he toys with you. You’re not being the sub so easily. You push back on him, rolling him over and straddling him. He raises an eyebrow, smiling and folding his arms behind his head. You open his shirt, scratching down his firm torso, kissing his six-pack. You tug at his jeans, pulling them and his boxers down to give you access to the cock that has pleasured you numerous times before. You take it into your mouth hungrily, using your tongue to circle the tip, a hand cupping his balls. You hear him exhale deeply and grit his teeth. You hum, taking pleasure in your control. But it is short lived. He lifts you like a feather and switches it up again, this time laying you on your front. His hand scratches down your back, before pulling your jeans clean off. He teases, playing with your entrance with his fingers and laughing as you moan.  
  
“Don’t try and take me on,” he growls deeply, pulling your hips up and thrusting his cock hard into you.

You cry out at the sudden sensation, painful but so good. He sets a quick pace, pounding you, the slap of skin loud and sinful. You bite your lip hard, hands grabbing the sheets tightly as he continues relentlessly. You stretch your arms up, arching your back and pushing back into him. Your knees begin to shake, each thrust hitting your sweet spot and driving you crazy.

“Still so tight, so fucking beautiful,” he grunts, quickening the pace. He reaches an arm around you and finds your clit, rubbing it with a long finger in a tease.

Something short of a scream erupts from you. You stretch your legs up to him so he can hit even deeper, completely filling you. You tighten around him, the coil inside you so tight you feel like when the time comes you will practically explode.

“Fuck!” Dean shouts, his voice distorted and demonic. You push your face into the mattress unable to hold on much longer. You hold your breath, the electricity shooting through you, your core getting tighter and tighter.

Dean grunts loudly with one last push, his fingers clenching you so tight it’ll leave bruises. He holds himself there while he gasps and you feel him coat your walls. It breaks you. You feel your legs give way while your cries echo throughout the room, no doubt disturbing any potential neighbors. The rush goes straight to your head like a high nicotine could never provide. Your body slumps, almost numb and you try to catch your breath.

You hear Dean chuckle, easing himself out of you causing you to wince. You have no energy to move, but you can hear the ruffle of clothes and the jingle of a belt being fastened. You find the strength to turn yourself over and watch him as he reaches for your carton of cigarettes. He places on in his lips and lights it, pulling a face of distaste.

“These are bad for you, you know?” he laughs, placing the lit stick in your mouth and pulling the sheet over you. He goes to leave.

“Dean…” you start as he opens the door.

He turns and gives you one final smirk. With that, the door closes, and he’s gone.

_Fucking bye then._

**Author's Note:**

> Written whilst in a deep Demon Dean hole.
> 
> Will forever be in that hole. 
> 
> God damn...


End file.
